


Vyssiní Anónymos

by JacklinMauer



Category: Fandom (Anthropomorphic), Hmofa, Original Work
Genre: F/M, Iambic Pentameter, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacklinMauer/pseuds/JacklinMauer
Summary: This is the story of creation, written in iambic pentameter.Just under 12k words long.
Relationships: Human male/Female anthro - Relationship
Kudos: 8





	Vyssiní Anónymos

I.  
When existence was but an equation  
that had yet to fully play out its course  
great twitching hands unscrambled the numbers  
and bore the first opus: an equal sign.  
And from that divine thought, the formula  
of reality became infinite  
sowing the seeds of worldly sensations  
which bristled against the chief molecules  
that became the first rocks and minerals.  
They felt the sensation of subtraction  
as they broke apart and formed the soil  
from which came the passion of addition  
as primeval trees took root and made life,  
the first mystery of eternal joy.  
The plants then knew of multiplication  
and spread saplings across the universe  
where they, in their youth, fashioned division  
and split child time into four seasons  
so that they could track their mortal cycles  
and know when to return to fertile earth.

For a million lifespans wood and bark ruled  
tilling the depths of dirt with their barbed roots.  
But they dug too deep and woke the new age,  
the ground racked asunder, splintered, and died  
as the loamy soil poured through the cracks  
into the molten inferno below  
fueling evermore their inheritors.  
Immense molten statues of salt and stone  
shot through exposed, churning, creamy magma  
and torched the paradise they landed on.  
Those primeval trees uprooted and ran,  
the fibers on their bark whisking away  
latching onto the slowly cooling stone  
sheltering them from the vengeful cold winds  
that would seek to shatter the new era.

And so this sea of stone figures laid still.  
As the war of the Nebulae played out  
and reborn stars—those ravagers of strife  
carved an empire of constellations  
and reigned absolute across the night sky,  
these stone eggs fertilized in silence,  
aloof to these masters of the cosmos.

Only when those twinkling kingdoms faded  
and the last forlorn star humbled themself  
and ascended beyond the demiurge  
was there a sudden, immense twitch of stone.  
Embryos of new, strange life erupted  
stomping on two legs, not a thousand roots  
swaying with mighty arms, not feeble twigs  
and they sprouted no leaves, but sharpened claws,  
those fine fibers now fur, matted and coarse.  
Their shapes so odd, even from each other  
but in this moment unified in song  
their roaring birth throes a cosmic wonder  
a signal to all of reality  
of the permanence of fresh face mortals,  
the first of the beast-folk, fated to die  
but will sow their seeds in amaranth fields.

II.  
Lonely and confused, they grouped together  
by color, size, claw, tooth, eyes, and muzzle  
and found comfort in their similar kin.  
Yet as they formed tribes and traveled the land  
they felt hollow with empty, sobbing dreams,  
the ditch in their souls a gaping tumor  
and in a weeping frenzy they amassed  
bulging, searing pyres, one for each tribe,  
dancing and screaming the words yet untaught  
begging for this crater of the spirit  
to shrink away into oblivion.

The smoke rises to sparkling, dying stars  
carrying all of their desperate wishes  
and mixing with the molten plasma cores  
fermenting for a hundred days and nights  
until the yolk of the suns spills aloft  
and from the golden dew emerged the Gods  
taking perfect forms of those who called them.

“We know not ourselves” cried the beast-folk,  
“All that we are is beyond our grasp,  
teach us to be, or cast us to the sea!”  
The newborn Gods, however, were timid  
and kept their distance, eyeing nervously  
this mass of weeping, hysterical beasts.  
Until one Goddess, so moved by the sight  
of her tribes fresh leaked tears, sprinted to them  
and scooped them all up in her arms of fur.  
“Who are we?!” they sniveled, clinging tightly.  
“You are called Wolves” she cooed out happily,  
“majestic hunters, ferocious lovers,  
like wind you’ll glide across the virgin snow  
ensnaring prey in an angelic dance  
and never succumbing to hunger pains.”  
And at this gospel the wolves sang a howl  
for the oubliette in their hearts was filled  
with new purpose and ever-lasting love.  
They were no longer a tribe, but a Pack.

All who witnessed this sight wept happy tears.  
Formerly apprehensive Gods now ran  
embracing those who cried out for their love  
and gave them names so they might know themselves  
Lions, Deer, Bears, Rabbits, lizards, and Rats.  
Infinite tribes received infinite names.  
But when the wolves asked for a name in turn  
the Goddess cocked her head and bit her lip.  
“I do not know” she answered back dully,  
“Tis not my name, but all that comes to mind  
is rather drab and long: Anonymous.”  
And when the other Gods answered the same  
she realized it must be a placeholder  
until the divine answer is revealed.

Each God took their pack to where they would thrive  
from deep woods, scorching deserts, and dark caves,  
teaching their charges how to make a home  
worthy of the future generations.  
They passed down customs and the rule of law  
so that beast-folk would know peace from themselves.  
The Wolf Goddess trudged up steep rolling hills  
and choose the peaks as their sanctuary.  
“You will grow strong and limber from the climb  
and have a safe haven from all dangers.”  
And so all Wolves were taught to sprint up-hill,  
their legs and calves now thick with muscle  
and with a few short gaits could reach the top.  
Then their arms and shoulders grew powerful  
as they carried rocks to make their abode  
all under their Goddess’s watchful eye  
who saw the beauty in their new found strength  
and deemed an unfit wolf a travesty  
against their Goddess, their kin, and themselves.

One night, when she had sent them off to bed  
she stared up at the blank night sky with a  
hidden longing she could not comprehend.  
“Something’s missing from this empty canvas,  
a sheathe of black with distant twinkling stars  
will not do for this new beautiful world.”  
Suddenly it seemed the depths of her mind  
repeated the birth of the Universe  
and felt the reach of those great twitching hands  
unscramble and make manifest her soul  
giving her knowledge to enlightenment.  
“My name!” she howls out in hysteria  
“As my kin know themselves, so now do I!”  
And as the pack awoke from her singing  
all they heard was a single word bellowed  
by their Goddess to the barren night sky:  
Luna.

III.  
One by one the Gods slowly knew their names  
the bond between Beasts and Gods now complete.  
Yet one tribe was not so harmonious,  
strange creatures with no fur on their bodies  
only fine, thin hair on their head and face.  
For when they were still only cooling stone  
they were the center of the statue sea  
thus they were shielded from ravaging winds,  
the fibers landing only on their scalps  
the rest being naught but frail virgin skin.

Exposed to the elements, they suffered  
and huddled near fires and caves for warmth  
for no God had come to answer their calls.  
Bitterness and nightmares plagued their spirits  
as they shunned all contact and dug deeper  
into their once shallow cave for answers.  
For two hundred days and two hundred nights  
both gods and beasts could hear them shifting stone  
deep into the Earth with strange, unseen tools  
the ‘clinking’ causing restless nights for all  
but none could brave descending that cavern.  
Luna herself gazed into that abyss  
shuddering as she heard their endless work  
echo through the darkness of that chasm  
pitying the unnamed tribe that dwelt there.

Twas a quiet morning when they emerged  
their bodies dirty, their faces faded,  
their eyes briefly shirked from the early dawn.  
But out of the cave they haul carts of stone  
determined to continue their harsh work  
as they constructed a great pavilion,  
tall and thin, that would stretch up to the clouds  
made from rock so no winds could blow it down.  
Any curious beasts were chased away  
by whooping guards brandishing throwing spears  
made from something even harder than stone.  
The gods peeping notice became alarm  
when workers would plummet to their demise  
and their bodies then thrown into the cave  
as a makeshift pit for unmarked corpses  
for time digging a grave was time wasted.

Yet even when this monument of stone  
was finished, their labor was not yet done.  
A great basin crafted from black iron  
mined in the core of the world was carried  
by five servants up to the building’s peak.  
When one would buckle, falling to their deaths  
another would silently take their place.  
Both gods and their kin watched on with dismay  
as the basin reached the tower’s summit  
where they placed wood and leaves into the bowl  
and set it alight, smoke staining the clouds.  
Luna and all the gods shrieked with horror  
as all of the tribe brandished iron knives  
and sliced deeply into their arms and chest  
and poured their blood into the charred basin  
using it as fuel for the inferno.

And so for seven days and seven nights  
they danced madly around the heightened flames  
and all onlookers fled from the display  
terrified of this morbid spectacle.  
Only Luna stayed, silently watching  
and pitying this crazed tribe with no name.

On the eighth day they stopped their ritual  
and return to the depths of the cavern  
dragging along their tired, sliced bodies  
silently awaiting for their dreamer.  
The furor over, Luna sauntered home  
and found her kin gazing awestruck above  
the morning sky where a new star appeared  
like a distant white-hot glowing pinprick  
that bored into pupils like a needle  
and all saw it descending towards them.

Luna bid them to flee from this white flame  
while she confronted this Morning Star  
plummeting from the eternal cosmos.  
And as is came closer, staying its course  
she saw the star was but a stained glass sphere  
turned white from the divine being within,  
his hair a bleached, translucent inferno  
that grew wild and robed the sleeping God.  
His skin, free of all fur and pale as snow,  
Luna thought he was a pearl given form  
until with a small yawn his eyes opened  
breaking apart the glassen confinement  
and birthing a new color not yet seen  
tinting Luna’s virgin fur with its glare  
as she bears witness to his emerald eyes!

IV.  
In contrast to his radiant body  
whose presence put Luna in a stupor,  
he emerged from his shattered womb trembling.  
His eyes so shy! His head darting around  
biting his lip, overcome by his nerves,  
wracked by confusion and anxiety  
made worse by the first thing he saw, Luna,  
who licked her chops before hooding her eyes,  
for his radiance and shyness combined  
evoked Luna’s first pangs of desire  
which he mistook for ravenous hunger.  
And so fled from the stooping bitch in heat  
as she squatted low like a wound-up spring  
eyeing her prey: that flailing lustrous pearl,  
as her thick steel coils called leg muscles  
twitched and shimmied even through her dense fur  
as she ran like an erupting mountain.  
Her dashing feet birthed the first hurricanes  
the gale in her arms, the first tornadoes  
the spittle from her maw, the first typhoons,  
and thus began the Huntresses first dance.

For five star rotations she chased her mark  
as he pummeled straight through jagged mountains  
creating fertile valleys in his wake,  
his radiant warmth food for the soil  
that sprouted towering trees ripe with fruit  
containing the taste of liquid starlight.  
But this just gave Luna a primal thirst  
to lap up and drink deeply from the source:  
that pale, scorching body which could smother  
and put out her own agonizing heat.  
Her breath became haggard as she slouched low  
running on all fours, claws slicing the dirt,  
cutting the landmass into continents  
all for one conclusive, desperate dash  
towards the one she would called her lover.  
And as his lungs burned and his body ached  
he felt her ferocious silken embrace  
pin him onto the luscious growing grass.  
Expecting teeth, he only felt her tongue  
lathering and cleaning his chest and face  
and pressing her wet nose into his neck  
steam sizzling and popping from Luna’s touch.  
“Be my one and only!” she begged from him,  
“Cling to my fur as I cling to your skin  
take me in the throngs of my addiction!”  
And as she pressed his face to her bosom  
he inhaled deeply her rough earthen scent  
and all the fear scrambled from his body  
becoming drunk from this fuzzy delight,  
his fingers tracing her musculature  
aroused by the beauty that pinned him down.

And so her pleadings were shortly answered  
as the lands felt the ever first earthquakes.  
Eternal echoes of their lovemaking

V.  
Unseen hands once mixed crystals with water  
and used the blend to finger-paint the sky,  
giving it that blue diaphanous sheen  
which now blanketed the godly lovers  
as they lay panting in the afterglow,  
the grass ever-growing from his aura  
and soon wrapping around the both of them  
as they clung tightly to one another  
basking in each others subtle squeezes,  
their soft, prodding jabs, and honeyed breathing,  
for carnal knowledge was never enough.  
Now their fingers swayed like satin feathers,  
brushing and barely touching fur and skin  
and when one hears the others hushed whimpers  
they know they found a new sensitive spot  
and invade with licks and little nibbles  
turning hushed whispers into loud, sharp gasps  
muffled only with lips and teeth and tongue  
making sure they tasted each others moans.

And so for fourteen days they continued,  
their souls as intertwined as their bodies  
as they undertook a great scent marking  
making their new union a cosmic law  
that can never be completely broken.  
Only when this miracle was finished  
did Luna give her name and ask for his  
which prompted only a sputtering frown.  
“I have no name. I am Anonymous”  
and slowly he lowered his countenance  
for despite himself he felt as unique  
as a shred of a single blade of grass.  
“We were all Anonymous” Luna said,  
as she nuzzled deeply against his neck,  
“Your name will appear to you like a spark,  
no--like lightning, streaking across the sky  
with brother thunder shouting it abroad  
so that all will know your rightful title,  
but for now you’ll be my little Anon.”

And so with their coupling complete they rose  
traveling to Anon’s junior kindred  
who still hid in caves awaiting their God,  
the sight of which greatly angered Anon  
and so lit the caves and raped the darkness  
revealing to all their filthy squalor.  
“You who are so clever to forge metal  
you who built a spire to summon me  
now squat like vermin in dark crevices  
with weak, fearful eyes jutting from shadows.  
Your dead pile up in graying corpse-pits  
never once conceiving homes for yourselves  
much less ones for the exposed departed.  
What’s worse than the plague you’d bring on yourselves  
is the shame that would seek to clog your souls.  
Let all the world witness your sordid state  
making your vindication more sweeter.”

Anon’s light further invaded the cave  
filling up the cracks, drilling into rock  
until the whole entrance broke and shattered  
around its inhabitants who cried out:  
“We might as well be plague-ridden vermin!  
For what little ability we have  
means nothing without an identity.  
Nameless freaks compelled to sculpt from iron  
as others stare at our fur-less forms.”

“I know your names!” Anon said jealously,  
“You are Humans, crafty and inventive,  
builders of grand, magnificent cities  
a reflection of your inner beauty.  
When others gaze upon your nakedness  
it is not out of a prying disgust  
but because of a lewd fascination.  
You are the makers, you are the lovers.”

And from the shattered rock all around them,  
Anon taught them to build sturdy stone homes.  
He went to their forges and showed the men  
his technique for the iron of the world,  
a metal that would never chip or rust.  
He taught them cleanliness and grave-digging  
so that they may regain their dignity.  
He preached harmony amongst their neighbors  
to cease their suspicious glares and murmurs  
for just as Anon had much to teach them  
the beast-folk knew much that man could learn from  
and only through knowledge could they prosper.  
“For you have neither horns, claws, nor sharp teeth  
and lack the talents of the strong or quick.  
It is your wits and handsome looks that will  
carry you to greatness through the ages.”

And of all the Beast-folk Anon embraced  
none was as fervent as his love for wolves.  
“They shall be your equals, your better halves.  
Love them as if they were your family  
and any who would seek to do them wrong  
are to have their existence blotted out.”

Luna stood by as he gave his sermon.  
But when the Goddess heard his final words  
she bolted back to her pack on the hill  
and told them all of her new-found lover,  
how he kept her warm despite his bare skin,  
how his thumb rubbed the inside of her ear,  
and how his soft coos made her spine tingle.  
But when the wolves guffawed at her expense  
her eyes narrowed and gave a toothy grin.  
“I shall invite the men to our hill  
where you will prepare them a mighty feast  
and they’ll do to you what was done to me.  
Surely you can resist where I succumbed.”  
As their ears drooped low and their eyes panicked  
Luna howled out an invite to Anon  
as her wolves went hunting for the banquet

When the Humans heard the invitation  
they became nervous and cried to Anon,  
“Whilst the wolves go out and hunt us a meal  
what contributions have we to give them?  
Our black iron makes a moody gift  
and with their claws it would serve no purpose.  
Shall we come to their lands as poor paupers?”

Anon sat and pondered this dilemma  
and his cranium glowed with thoughts abound  
Until the entire room was painted  
with a bright white light from his brilliancy.  
“I shall go and craft a suitable gift  
and deliver it unto you shortly.  
Purge your anxieties when you arrive,  
and play the role as the wolves hapless guests,  
willingly embracing their schemes and charms  
for I promise you will all leave with wives.”

With these instructions given he set out  
to a nearby forest littered with the  
dried out corpses of shriveled bramble wood,  
a degraded brood of Primeval Trees.  
Anon with a quick snap from his fingers  
set the forest of cadavers ablaze  
smouldering away the weak, crackling wood  
purging all that wasn’t fit in his eyes  
so that only the healthy trees remained.  
Amidst the charred dirt and white ashen twigs  
he traveled into the inner forest  
and claimed a branch of the most virile tree  
then pulled the thin fibers off of the bark  
weaving the thin hairs thickly together  
then tying it to both ends of the branch  
bending and stressing the wood to a curve  
before plucking the strings with a light ‘twang’.

“This shall be called a bow,” he said proudly.  
“Where teeth and claws may fail, this will endure  
and wolves will discover their other gifts;  
far-seeing eyes will pour into their prey  
as hers poured into my gasping body.  
Their ears will flicker for each hidden sound  
as hers flickered against my shaking hands.  
They will know how nimble their fingers are  
as when Luna combed hers throughout my hair.  
Through this I will see that their dreams come true  
with all of mankind standing at their side.”

Anon returned promptly to the village  
and taught the men how to craft their own bows  
and to take sticks and carve them for arrows.  
“When the wolves serve you this great feast tonight,  
eat greedily, let them play the victor  
in this small game of hospitality.  
Only then will you bestow their presents  
pushing them to flustered euphoria.”

But as Anon and the men made their way  
the wolves returned from a successful hunt  
only to begin concocting a scheme.  
“These so called “men” will charm us to their beds  
using trickery like those head-scratches  
that our Goddess Luna succumbed to.  
Let us take these sacks of wine and pour them  
heavily into the boiling meat broth,  
that way as the men continue to feast  
they will become drunken and slovenly  
and will not be able to seduce us.”

Thus as the men nervously climbed the hill  
the wolves waited for them with small smiles,  
beckoning them, but keeping their distance.  
There in the village laid two round tables  
with dozens of large pots filled with meat stew  
splayed across only one of the tables  
whilst the other only had leftovers.  
“The stew is for your pleasure” the wolves said,  
“we will suffice with the meat that is left”.  
The men, remembering Anon’s advice  
did not protest and sat at the table  
and began the night’s feasting in earnest.

As the wolves predicted they became drunk,  
the wine-laced broth making the mens head spin  
and they wobbled and slouched and slurred their speech.  
The wolves gave each other knowing smiles  
as they looked upon the clumsy rabble  
that turned to worry when the men approached  
their arms low and swaying, their feet shaky,  
they spoke with labored words but still pressed on.  
“Tonight we have brought you gifts in return  
for your hospitality and good food.  
We hope you accept them with joyous hearts.”

Before the wolves could muster a protest  
they were presented with the hand-made bows  
and the men drunkenly explained their use  
before passing out beneath the table.  
The wolves, perplexed and stunned by their presents  
awkwardly twanged the strings which then shimmered  
against an army of glittering stars.  
Then one notched an arrow, pulling it back  
and when she let it go the sound it made  
was a little symphony to their ears  
as it pierced across the air, ripping space  
before splitting through a faraway tree.

“What is this wonder!” the wolves cried aloud,  
“No more must we rely on our claws  
to make bloody ribbons of our prey.  
The hunt shall be as graceful as we are  
our sight the only limitation.”  
They then looked back to the slumbering men  
with love in their eyes and lust in their loins.  
“Who are these beings to bring us such things,  
whose crafts make our hearts flutter and beat?  
Quickly, whilst they sleep let us go to them  
and claim for ourselves a husband each.  
We will carry them to our abodes  
wrapping their bodies up in soft blankets,  
burying their faces in our fur  
so that they will know the scent of their wives.  
In their current state they will not resist  
as we bind together in a union.”

And so each wolf took a man as her mate  
pressing their faces deep into warm fluff  
and carrying them into their new home.  
In the distance the Godly pair watched on  
and in between their lovemaking, they laughed.

VI.  
When stars spilled forth gods like a cracking egg  
their innards—scorching plasma—dribbled forth  
like a molten amniotic fluid.  
Then this afterbirth of a hundred suns  
meshed together into a shapeless mass,  
a billowing bastard of perverse life,  
a lesser God of nothing but itself  
and so gave it’s name as Jabberwocky.

As it slithered across the land it turned  
the greenest grass to a putrid yellow  
and emitted a foul smelling odor  
as the soil caked over and hardened  
from Jabberwocky’s muculent lava  
that it excreted as a magma trail.

It spotted Anon alone on a hill  
and mistook its perverse lust for true love  
giving itself a form it thought pleasing:  
a blob that now had undulating curves  
and hollowed out two holes and called them eyes.  
An endless web of thin mucous sprouted  
from its body and dared to call them legs  
and put the female form between each pair. 

Anon shirked in disgust as she approached,  
her ribald body a caricature  
of only the lowest forms of pleasure.  
“Be my one and only” she slobbered out,  
“I shall envelope all of your body  
into my wet, harmonious cocoon  
and give you a lifetime of releases  
that I shall take and use for my own needs.”

Anon recoiled at the imagery  
taking a few steps back from the creature  
and crinkling his nose at her putrid musk.  
“I’m afraid that I’m claimed by another”  
he said as nicely as he could muster.  
“I am coupled with the Goddess Luna,  
I’m proud to be her forever partner,  
the prey to her beautifully sheened fangs  
that glitter and blind all against the stars.  
She is the only one who can tame me.  
I’m afraid you are quite inferior.”

And this is when newly-born Jabberwock  
first experienced pangs of rejection  
and after the shock came she skipped sadness  
going straight to anger from ruined pride  
and sought to consume the Anonymous.  
But he ran merrily away, laughing,  
for he was swift and she could only crawl  
and meander on the dirt she ruined.  
Nonetheless her skin boiled in fury  
as she schemed ruin for the Human God.

Jabberwocky found the Goddess Luna  
bathing alone on a small river bank  
and she seethed in jealousy at the wolf.  
Luna’s muscles were ever more distinct:  
that matted soaking fur pressed down against  
every contour and curve of her body  
revealing even her abdominals  
through the thick tuft of fur on her belly.

And all Jabberwocky had was blubber,  
rotund and bland, lacking any beauty,  
and too dull for a detailed description.  
What more can one write about fat and slime  
especially when there is a Goddess  
with a bushy, sensual, swaying tail  
as a better focus for your efforts?

And so spiteful Jabberwocky approached  
Huntress Luna and spun a web of lies  
of how Anon took this creature to bed  
and sowed his seed between eight shaking legs,  
how her mucous milked his throbbing member  
and how he never felt pleasure like this,  
swearing to the stars that Jabberwocky  
was eons better than some dumb bitch wolf.  
So enamoured was he by the valleys  
of the thirty-two legs wrapped around him  
that he swore an oath to capture Luna  
and torture her for Jabberwocky’s sake,  
snapping her muzzle and flaying her fur  
gifting the hide to his Jabberwock bride  
so that she may fashion it as a skirt  
to contain her one hundred and ten legs  
and her bloated wombs between each pairing,  
which would stretch and ruin the wolf skin cloth  
until it shredded from swollen bellies  
and countless abominations bursting  
from her eight hundred and seventy legs.  
Luna’s legacy: a soiled foul rag.  
For that would be all Anon thought of her.

Thus Jabberwocky, inventor of lies,  
spat out this cruel, degenerate story  
which reduced Luna to a sobbing state,  
still naive to the nature of falsehoods,  
for deception had only just been birthed  
and its jargon a mystery to all.  
So she believed it, every single word,  
never mind why Jabberwocky would brag  
so openly about her cruel designs  
if they retained the slightest hint of truth.  
All that occupied Luna’s frantic thoughts  
was that her one and only betrayed her.  
The most beautiful being in her eyes  
abandoned her for the most repulsive  
with an overwhelming malicious glee.

And so she ran amidst callous cackles,  
her eyes puffy red, her fur stained with tears,  
a virgin to viciousness no longer.  
Stumbling to her village with a shrill howl,  
Luna barricaded herself inside  
smashing, ripping, and clawing all there was  
her abode a wrecked pandemonium.  
Outside, all her kin heard and were afraid  
and sent for Anon to calm their Goddess  
but when she heard his footsteps on the grass  
she destroyed her house in savage fury  
and with bow in hand she shot at Anon  
calling him a most wicked defiler,  
an infection upon her heart and soul  
that she would cleanse into oblivion.  
But as Luna notched another arrow  
she wavered upon the sight of Anon,  
who in bewilderment burst into tears  
his emerald eyes now strained with swelled red veins  
and before Luna could say anything  
he bolted away, covering his face,  
but this time Luna would fail to catch him.

Anon hid beneath an old cherry tree  
itself alone in a valley of green  
wallowing in desolate confusion  
ignorant of the crude plot against him.  
Only when Jabberwocky slithered forth  
did she tell the unstable god the truth,  
bragging of her triumph over Anon.  
For all her wiles she knew not wisdom  
and like all gods could not fathom danger  
and could not comprehend actual death  
that all mortal beings were subject to.

Anonymous, hearing of her deceit  
quickly collapsed into a silent rage  
that deafened even the wind-swaying grass  
as the symphony of nature itself  
succumbed to the vacuum of Anon’s hate.  
Jabberwocky then understood terror  
as she watched on in panic as Anon  
evaporated his earthly body  
into a hundred thousand orbs of light  
and scattered them to the heavens above.  
Intermingling with the satin white clouds  
until they too morphed from his corruption  
into horrible shapes both dark and gray  
which sculpted his face from this stormy mass,  
his emerald eyes yet an unnamed color  
but bearing resemblance to that of blood,  
with veins of streaking lightning for his hair.  
And thus every being in existence  
heard the crackling bellows of his thunder  
as he unleashed a fraction of his might,  
bathing the dale in electricity.

And Jabberwocky screamed, splitting in half  
but Anonymous was not satisfied  
and scorched her in shards of light endlessly,  
fragmenting over and over again  
until he severed her very atoms  
and the electrons that came afterwards  
and all the unnamed debris after that.

The entirety of this universe  
stems from nothing turning into something,  
a divine spark, the miracle of light.  
But Anon brought something back to nothing  
and removed its life from the equation  
that reality used to move forward.  
From then on there would be deviations  
of the eternal plan of the cosmos,  
small ripples turning into tidal waves  
marking new futures for prenatal stars  
if they even had a future at all.  
For Anonymous, the God of Humans,  
had committed the very first murder.

VII.  
A child once wandered the charred valley.  
A child of what? No one remembers.  
The cooked soil crunched underneath his foot  
breaking and scattering like tainted ash.  
The boy’s mother warned him of this sad place,  
a thousand miles of green turned to soot,  
but his curiosity proved too much  
and he set to venture the cursed black dale.  
It was here a generation ago  
that a mad god took the world’s breath away  
and made a deluge of lightning and death  
killing a foul but powerless creature  
whose name is entirely forgotten.  
And thus this god of annihilation  
seemingly disappeared without a trace.

Despite tales the boy heard that this was a  
lifeless land, he caught sight of a being,  
a human no less, slouched on a tree stump:  
the cooked bark, shredded into sharp fragments  
and the shriveled roots as weak as they were,  
easily curled upwards and pierced the dirt  
encircling the human with sharp spikes.

The man himself was clothed in strips of rags  
the ends of which drooped and swayed in the wind.  
His head was hooded, obscuring his face  
except for his emerald eyes shining bright  
with a hue more vivid than any gem  
still sparkling in the face of this ruin.

He looked up as the child came his way  
walking slowly, wary of the stranger.  
“Who are you who dwells in this blasted land?”  
The child asked, yet the man remained still  
only stirring after a long moment.  
“We who were born in gilded paradise  
could not conceive of a place such as this  
where painful scars and misery abounds.  
We did not even know what killing was  
and the thought of death was a distant one,  
a theoretical idea, nothing more.  
I thought those horrible things were birthed here,  
this great destruction even gave it form  
and a terrible concept was unleashed  
upon all living beings of the world.”

“I spent long nights looking at the cosmos  
and realized those nebulae I gazed at  
with such admiration were star corpses,  
withered remnants of something beautiful,  
an illusion, a perversion of life.  
For I’ve bored witness to a cadaver  
and saw nothing good dwell in that stillness,  
but death’s touch did not originate here  
it is entrenched in this reality.  
What else could define a supernova  
or the slow fading of a neutron star  
other than death and rot made manifest  
in their most powerful and wretched forms?  
A single instance of those cosmic throes  
is more traumatizing than if a swath  
of lightning storms drowned this entire world  
and yet we are surrounded by the death  
of a million bright stars every second,  
the rate of devastation is too much  
to be even conscious of perception.”

“And yet we think killing started right here  
in this benign speck we’d call a char pit  
when there are whole galaxies collapsing  
as they smash into each other in wars  
eating the loser. Is this not murder?  
Murder and subsequent death are not sins  
they are inherent to this universe,  
a necessity for it to function  
and yet we’re built to react in sadness,  
to mourn for the defeated and dying.  
Why? Compensation to the moribund?  
To let them know they will be remembered?  
I do not think that is nearly enough.”

The boy stared into the man’s hooded face  
the light in his virescent eyes flickered.

“The innate laws which bind this universe  
I find to be not only flawed, but cruel.  
Murder should not just be a shameful sin  
but a certain impossibility,  
not even able to be conceived of,  
the notion removed from this dimension.  
Death should be peaceful at one’s own choosing  
if one even wishes to die at all.  
Must we brave the confines of these cosmos  
and all of their vulgar injustices?  
I think not. There must be a better path.  
We must alter this universe’s laws  
and if not possible, we’ll replace it  
with one that serves the common good for all.

And in that moment the child noticed  
the flickering in those emerald eyes stopped  
their luster fading to a quiet dull.

VIII.  
Anon emerged from his meditation  
yet he announced his presence to no one.  
Under the cover of darkness he walked  
along the foamy shores of the ocean  
where warm, moist sand clumped in between his toes  
and felt the water splashing his ankles.  
His thoughts turned from the universe at large  
to a certain wolf goddess he yearned for  
and thought she still believed him unfaithful  
for she never searched for him afterwards.  
But that was because of shame, not anger,  
for Luna had yet to forgive herself  
for attacking the one she loved the most.  
She was a recluse from even her kin  
eating only the bare necessity  
and rarely leaving her ruined abode  
ruminating on the lover she lost  
her fur wilting and becoming patchy.

Yet Anon, ignorant of Luna’s state  
set about the task of wooing her back.  
He gazed at the sky and found it wanting,  
small glimmering stars speckled the darkness  
but Anon thought those dimmed lights were lacking,  
the black void of space too close to triumph.  
“I will fashion a new gift for Luna,  
one that will eradicate the darkness  
and bring the vast cosmos one step closer  
to the utopia I envision.”

He looked out past the ocean horizon  
and knew exactly what he required.  
But as he slowly tread into the sea  
doubt fogged his mind, his conviction wavered.  
Anon knew that to accomplish this task  
he would have to plunder the ocean floor  
and abduct by force that which wasn’t his.  
Was this not part of the evil he loathed?  
When he spent those years studying the stars  
was he not sickened as well with their theft?  
The theft of heat, the theft of energy,  
the theft of life from selfish explosions  
by elderly stars bitter at their fate  
who sought to consume all at their collapse.  
Anon’s theft was lesser, but not better,  
a repetition of cosmic vices  
enacted on a microscopic scale.

“I’m crafted of this Universe’s mass  
and all of its inherent corruption.  
I am bound by the quantum strings of fate,  
dancing along to the harmonic tune  
drummed up by the twitching hands of my dreams.  
And thus I am trapped in this paradox  
where I must abide by the loathsome rules  
cruelly imposed by this reality  
in order to ultimately break them  
and establish my golden paradise.  
So I will commit the crimes required  
such as this theft of the oceans gemstones.”

And so he sank down into the seabed  
his radiance an underwater sun  
expelling the darkness of the deep blue  
revealing those treasured twinkling mollusks.  
Anon then began his rape of the sea,  
ravaging hundreds of impotent clams  
stealing the treasured pearls they held within  
leaving behind only the shredded shells  
with no one to hear their cries for justice.

He emerged, his prize bundled in his hair,  
the pearls soaking up his blinding aura  
until they themselves were like mini-suns.  
Anon then grabbed ahold of his long locks  
twisting and entwining the hair tightly  
grinding the pearls into a fine powder  
and pouring off his scalp like white gold dust.  
Anon then mixed it with the salt water  
until he concocted a heavy paste  
and sculpted it into a perfect sphere.

He held the dripping orb against his chest  
feeling splotches of paste run down his skin.  
His thoughts once more turned to the Wolf Goddess  
and his body then began to swelter.  
“There are no words in all of creation  
that could encompass the sum of my love,  
no gift, no great action will be enough.  
Even this feat I dare to do tonight  
that shall forever change the lives of all  
is but a chipped fragment of my feelings.”

His body became like that of the sun,  
a raging inferno that baked the sphere  
into a gemstone of a thousand pearls  
which Anon held aloft with one finger.  
It would be a star within the darkness  
powered by Anon’s own transcendent soul  
which he gave freely and without restraint.  
And so what was a small brittle thing grew  
larger than the world’s mightiest mountain  
rousing every waking thing from its sleep  
as they gazed upon a shining beacon.

Anon with only a single finger  
carried the pearl to the greater heavens  
where it would shine brighter than any star  
and eradicate the night’s stranglehold.  
His eyes were rolled back, his tongue lolling out  
losing his wits to the euphoria  
of unrestrained primeval creation.  
For Anonymous, god over mankind,  
sired the Moon.

Wolves pulled Luna out of her wretched house  
her eyes blurred with tears, blinded by the light  
and taken aback by her kin’s frenzy.  
“We are whole! We are complete! We are one!”  
She looked up to the celestial light  
and saw the silhouette of her lover  
against the blazing beams of paradise.  
His hair became that of a comet’s tail  
as he slowly descended to Luna  
his hands outstretch, his head bowing to her.  
Before Anon could speak, Luna grabbed him,  
binding him to her fur, forcing a kiss,  
his lips, his very body scalded her  
but the pain only made her kiss harder  
running her paws through his locks of fire  
that wrapped and enveloped the two of them.

Luna held Anon close to her bosom  
as she stared up at the god’s handiwork.  
No more was the night sky a blank canvas,  
something that was missing was now complete.  
Thus a dormant feeling swelled up in her  
and she began a serenade of howls  
and her pack joined in the Moon’s lullaby.  
The puzzle finished, souls now self aware,  
the universe then was so beautiful  
it seemed utterly whole to all beings,  
a perfect mechanism to live in.  
Yet still there was one who found it lacking  
but no one noticed the green in his eyes  
had lost their luster a long time ago.

IX.  
There were a race of beasts called Saurians  
whose home was the base of a volcano  
for their blood was cold and it gave them warmth.  
Their God’s name was known as Haragamar  
and he lived within the oozing mountain  
bathing in the lifeblood of the planet.  
He had three heads whilst his kin had but one  
and he took great pride in his appearance  
a sign of his grandeur among the gods,  
for they all simply mimicked their brethren  
while he was a divine novelty,  
exceptional and rare in all regards.

The Saurians became overcrowded  
and piled up around the volcano.  
So Haragamar with a finger’s flick  
raised another mountain like a pustule  
leaking out a steady stream of lava.  
He scooped up the excess population  
and dumped them upon this second mountain  
where once more they became overcrowded  
necessitating the third magma mountain  
and soon a fourth one was needed as well  
the cycle repeating ad nauseum  
forming a mountainous ring of fire.

Yet Haragamar was lofty and vain.  
He boasted to all at his creation  
and yet found it wholly insufficient  
for the world was large and his mountains small.  
To change the face of the planet itself  
and to make himself its partial author  
was a more glorious undertaking  
than providing mere homes for lesser kin.

So he continued to rupture the world,  
the planet splitting from rising mountains  
that were now just despotic monuments  
to the godliness of Haragamar.  
He then held designs on the lands of man  
and shot geysers of lava at humans  
to drive them away and take what was theirs.  
“All that falls under my shadow is mine,  
I care not for the cries of lesser things.”  
Thus was the decree of Haragamar  
and all of mankind fell into hard times.

Anon heard the pleas of his fellow man  
and succumbed to a terrible fury.  
“This three-headed cur dares to show his pride?  
I, who created the moon for Luna,  
should tolerate this phony architect?  
My cosmic revision has no equal!  
I will not stomach a competitor  
who builds not for a grand dream or vision  
but to satiate his own base ego.  
Imagine a universe of good laws  
losing out to one of such perversion?  
It would violate all that is divine.  
It would violate all that is myself.”

And so Anon gathered up all of man,  
giving each a spear and a knife of steel  
and taught them regiments and formations,  
told them to reject uncontrolled violence  
in favor of cold, calculating rage,  
to not focus on the demise of one  
but on the massacre of the many.  
He taught them tactics and efficiency,  
of supply lines and the building of forts,  
and graced man with his new philosophy,  
that a kill for a cause is a good kill  
and all who stand against utopia  
are not victims but enemies instead. 

Anonymous taught man the ways of war,  
willingly destroying their innocence.  
For they were his kin, the troops he needed  
to rebuild the reality he loathed.

Man crafted bows, not for love but for war,  
and showered Saurians with their barbed stings  
who thus cried out in frightened agony.  
Mothers shielded tender skink babes in vain  
as cruel arrows tore through their scaly skin  
and suddenly the mewling cries were gone.

Men marched up the base of the volcano  
and came across traumatized survivors.  
For no living thing had seen such carnage  
and those living Saurian were reduced  
to shaking from a cold that was not there;  
their arms hugging themselves, teeth chattering,  
eyes numb from the blizzard of arrow shafts.

Anonymous demanded their slaughter  
and brought about the world’s first massacre.

All the men grabbed the heads of saurians  
and on Anon’s instructions took the skin  
from the muzzle to the back of the ear  
and ripped it off with the edge of a knife,  
scalping all the still living saurians.

The cosmos looked upon this with disgust  
but Anonymous was glaring right back.  
How could this be truly evil, he thought,  
if it was possible in the first place?  
For every atrocity he fathomed  
only further justified his end goals:  
the reformation of the universe.

Then his eyes darted to the dirt below  
feeling something warm pool around his foot.  
It was the flowing blood of saurians  
oozing out of their violated skulls.  
Anon was flooded with epiphany,  
for blood was the origin of all life  
the basic building block of the cosmos.  
All things, from black holes to a blade of grass  
had blood of some form as its origins.  
Why bother ranting against all the stars  
when Anon could harness the blood within:  
that fusion of the cryptic elements  
boiling within the barely contained gas.  
Mortal blood is a different substance  
but it’s application is all the same.  
“If I can conquer the blood,” Anon thought,  
“Then I can lay claim to the universe!”

Anonymous transformed the volcano  
into a furnace to forge new weapons,  
working all of mankind nearly to death  
spurring them on with whispers of revenge  
against the prideful Haragamar’s brood.  
It’s only when their wolf wives came searching  
begging them to come home did he relent.  
And so Anon toiled in the crater  
experimenting with the lizard blood  
swirling it like paint within the magma  
and he likened every swirl to an arm  
of a new galaxy he could create.  
And within the pool of hardened lava  
he lost himself to the infinity  
of creation he felt within his grasp,  
mindlessly churning blood within magma.

Then came Luna, the primordial wife,  
who sought out her preeminent husband.  
The heat singed her but she carried onward  
dutifully ascending the mountain  
until she could gaze into the crater  
and saw something resembling her Anon:  
He roamed waist high mindlessly in lava,  
his skin red, raw, and peeling from the heat,  
that beautiful white hair long burned away  
with only a scalded dome remaining.  
But it was his eyes that broke her the most,  
barely green like the color of sickness  
but were mostly a reflection of blood  
that awful color that still lacked a name.

She called out to him but he did not hear  
his mind lost to the lava’s slow churning  
as it rolled over itself endlessly.  
And so Luna braved the pain of magma  
slogging through the melted rock like a marsh  
until she could reach out and touch his hand.  
He looked at her, boring into her eyes,  
mouthing her name but never speaking it.  
Luna cooed Anon back into her arms  
and pulled him out of this world’s wounded pore,  
rescuing him from the mountain’s madness.

Luna shuffled him to a bed of furs  
and used her tail as the warmest blanket.  
She pulled Anon to the fluff of her neck  
where he huffed that familiar aroma  
and his world-weariness melted away.  
Luna’s paw-pads rubbed into his burned skin  
and the scabs gave-way to regrown pale skin.  
But no matter how much she pawed his scalp  
that hair of white fire would not grow back.  
Despite how much she kissed his tears away  
his eyes would still be that of dying grass.  
Anonymous would be forever changed.

“There will come a moment” Luna began,  
“when you will know your name and who you are.  
That is why you grasp at the mysteries  
of the unfathomable universe.  
For you’re a God of a hidden purpose  
with a destiny yet to be revealed.  
But soon you will be gifted with a spark  
and that unknowable name will be yours.  
No longer will you look at the cosmos  
and claw for meaning to your existence.  
No longer will you view the universe  
with such a cynical melancholy.”

As Anon slumbered, Luna took his hand  
and placed it gingerly on her belly.  
“Soon I will call you by your new title  
and worship you as more than a husband.  
You and I will be united as one  
in a way that you yet cannot fathom.”

Luna held Anon close, using her fur  
to keep warm the two other souls with her.

X.  
Haragamar bristled at his defeat  
and sought revenge for this indignity.  
He roused an endless horde of saurians  
aiming to drive back the human forces  
to demonstrate which god was dominant  
and which would play out the submissive slave.  
Though Haragamar deemed himself worthy  
as the greatest and strongest of the gods,  
never did he think to murder others  
to display his claim of supremacy.  
Such thoughts were reserved to only one god.

Anon pried himself from Luna’s bedroom  
and watched as man withstood saurian waves,  
new steel weapons cutting scales like butter  
as man gave in to the euphoria  
of pure victory amidst the killing.

It was only now that Haragamar  
understood the depravity of man  
bearing witness for their taste in slaughter  
and feeling nothing but disgust and fear.  
Anon, however, pined for the carnage,  
his eyes widened, his breath growing heavy,  
his soul glazed over at the sight of blood,  
the blood of beast and man intertwining  
into a primal soup of creation.  
The pillars of this flawed reality  
all there for Anonymous to exploit.  
Luna’s sleepy words were so far away.  
So lost was he in the haze of his dream  
that he had joined the fray, sword in his hand,  
without even being aware of it.  
All that mattered was that the blood was his:  
his to smell, his to taste, his to rebuild  
this broken universe to something whole.

Anon eclipsed beyond that of a god  
and morphed into an extinction event.  
Never again would the universe hear  
the chattering squeaks of the saurians.  
For one brief moment Haragamar heard  
the deafening sound of non-existence  
as his kin were purged from reality.  
And though they were not as splendid as him,  
Haragamar did ever love them so.

Anonymous donned on his crown of blood  
as he approached this null god of nothing.  
His face was that of ravenous hunger,  
as he lunged at Haragamar’s three heads  
his palms pressed down against their trachea  
causing Haragamar to spit and gag.  
Anon’s grip tightened and he licked his lips,  
anticipating the oncoming feast  
as he pulled the defeated god apart.  
The world was bathed in Haragamar’s squeals  
as his necks were twisted from his shoulders  
and soaked Anon in a geyser of blood.

As Anon bolted down pint after pint,  
all of man was relieved of their frenzy,  
their battle-lust replaced by nausea.  
For all they saw was a field of bodies,  
and all they smelled was the putrid decay,  
and all they heard was their god’s loud slurping,  
and all they tasted was looming bile,  
and all they felt was shame and agony.

And all they did in that moment was cry.

Humans whimpered beneath their gorging god  
who no longer seemed to care for his kin.  
For Anon was drunk on the source of life  
which he would harness for his purposes  
of rebuilding a perfect universe.

Luna watched on, her stomach an abyss.  
For the first time, she was afraid of him.

XI.  
That blazing ring of fire was transformed  
into a yoke of toxic, gagging fumes  
as Anonymous turned each volcano  
into an imposing terrible forge.  
Great black towers of glossy rock emerge  
from the oozing mouth of every crater  
that stood so high they grazed against the stars.  
Within these obelisks, mankind toiled,  
forging the contraptions their god ordered.  
He cared little for the sword and the plow,  
now he wanted the gear and the engine,  
and giant sheets of metal miles wide.

And so humans broke their bodies against  
the anvil, now little more than servants  
to a master obsessed with the taboo.  
They longed to be with their wolf wives again,  
but Anonymous forbade them to leave  
until the work was finally finished,  
and thus they would be shackled forever.

Anon then built walls to ward off the wolves  
less they’d come and claim their husbands themselves.  
Even Luna was a stranger to him  
as he would never warm her bed again  
his desires tainted with obsession  
that had sunken to new depravities.  
For when a man would finally succumb  
to the toils of the body and smoke  
rather than give a proper burial,  
Anon would harvest the fresh cadaver  
and drain the molested body of blood  
infusing it within an iron frame,  
creating a mocking half-breed of life  
that in his delusions he saw as the  
foundations for his new reality.

Anon subverted the fate of mankind,  
instead of builders they became workers  
where their ingenuity was replaced  
by the exacting demands of their god  
who had committed the unthinkable  
by turning his own people into serfs  
for a terrible age of soot and steel.

Man had become so distraught, so oppressed  
that they did what was thought impossible:  
they called out to another god for help.  
They called for Luna.

She heard the cries of man and came running  
but her wolves, now hearing their husbands howl  
began to frantically destroy the wall  
their claws cracked and bleeding from their frenzy.

They stormed the black obsidian towers  
and rescued what remained of their husbands  
from the foul magic of the human god.  
They smashed the foundations, and the forges  
began to plummet into the magma.  
The wolf wives would make sure that their husbands  
would never again work in those towers.

With all the men safely stolen away  
there was a brief and terrible silence  
as if all was caught in the void of space.

Anon looked at the ruin before him  
and saw only the cogs of the cosmos  
impede and hold him back for the last time.  
His rage molded into frothing madness  
and he lost what sanity he had left.

Anonymous in that single moment  
forever renounced his humanity  
and pledged to be more than a single god.  
Anon would simply be God eternal  
of a new universe of his design.

Anonymous stole thunder from the skies  
and slammed the noise into the volcanoes  
where they devastated the world with sound  
and coated the planet with soot and ash.  
Volcanoes crumbled into molten dust  
when thrashing magma bored through the mountains  
and gushed out of every crevice as the  
ring of fire imploded on itself  
sinking into the planet’s wounded heart  
leaving only a smoldering crater.

Anonymous took ahold of a knife  
and carved a gory gash across his chest  
draining his blood into the pit below.  
A foul odor emerged from the crevice  
as magma below bubbled like a stew  
from liquid metal being fertilized.

Abominations arose from that pit  
of dripping, sagging iron bound by blood.  
They had no tongues, no mouths to beg for death  
their groans replaced by sick sloshing within  
of whatever organs were concocted  
by Anonymous’s sadistic mind.

Like a wave of filth they climb the crater  
and descended upon both wolves and man  
determined to harvest blood for their god  
as he cackled and shrieked at the carnage.

Wolf wives and Human husbands fought bravely  
but could not withstand that living metal.  
It was a mad battlefield of flayed skins  
that no mortal being could hope to win.  
“Do not fear your grisly deaths” Anon spoke,  
“for through your blood you shall be by my side  
via your new forms in preparation  
to ascend to my new reality.  
Though you do not appreciate my gifts  
I am an understanding deity  
who realizes you are naught but children  
swiping away at nightmares in your crib  
and being obstinate to your betters  
who in his wisdom knows what’s best for you.  
But know that I forgive your transgressions,  
we are all creatures of this universe  
so of course you struggle along with it.  
But that is why I am the supreme god  
and you are merely fallible mortals.”

When all seemed futile for wolves and men  
as they played the role of hapless victims  
in the face of ruthless atrocity,  
Luna ascended the world’s highest peak  
as effortlessly as her homely hills.  
She drew deep gasping breaths as she sucked in  
all of the air that lingered that high up,  
her body bloated from the oxygen.  
Her eyes and cheeks were soaked with tears as she  
realized the monster her Anon now was.  
Long days spent basking in the sun and grass  
would be forever lost, a memory  
that could never be recaptured again.

The howl she set loose was a hurricane  
stronger than those ancient primeval winds  
and shifted the planet on its axis  
so that it would always tilt on orbit.  
It was an earthquake reincarnated  
as a vengeful wind of a mighty god  
that left cracks in the atoms it rushed past.

Anonymous let out a shrieking scream  
as the roar slammed into his living steel.  
Their glowing metal turned cold and brittle  
their joints stiff as they rusted into dust  
with tainted black blood exploding into  
steaming piles of refuse on the dirt.

Anonymous was nowhere to be found.  
What remained of his celestial form  
was obliterated from Luna’s song  
and all that remained was a fiendish dream  
unfettered from any chronic virtue  
that would hold back this cosmic dictator.

XII.  
First came the feet like a meteorite  
burning gaping holes in the atmosphere  
and slamming down onto the world’s mountains.  
His skin was pale and pure like virgin snow  
and felt colder than the cruelest tundra,  
his former warmth now utterly displaced.  
His body reached to the very heavens  
with nine terrible arms on either side  
that each grasped a woeful weapon of war.  
His back was layered with a thousand wings  
with feathers made from the rings of planets  
that sparkled with stolen luminescence.  
His muscles were like waves of the ocean  
rolling and quivering beneath white flesh.  
His mouth was a smile made from stained glass,  
never moving, a permanent fixture  
with lakes of blood replacing his green eyes.  
His head was carved with stone beyond the stars  
and had hair made from burning comet tails  
above which were the nine broken halos  
that stretched up past a dozen galaxies  
and were each wrapped around a collapsed star  
that screamed in agony, begging for death.

This was the birth of evil incarnate  
that forever damaged the universe.  
This was Anonymous the Usurper.

“All that there is and all that there will be  
is mine and mine alone to dominate.  
I shall overthrow the great twitching hands  
and wipe their equations from existence  
and damn these cosmos to nihility  
so that not even their numbers remain.  
I can see them carousing in my mind,  
new number that you could not comprehend,  
with different shapes, and meanings, and values,  
all bouncing off the insides of my brain  
begging for release, begging to be free!  
They will splatter across a blank canvas  
while I burn this old, rotting painting  
and what will seem insane becomes the norm  
and what was accepted becomes taboo.  
I am God! I will create paradise!  
I will reach out and touch a billion worlds  
as I campaign across this universe  
leaving only nebulae in my wake.  
Beast and Man? These forms are inferior.  
The allure of flesh and fur is worthless  
and shall be left behind in my new realm.  
Your new forms will be far more suitable  
to the reality I’ve planned for you.  
Come die and be reborn to my designs.”

As Anonymous raised his eighteen swords  
to deliver the death knell to all life,  
Luna attempted one last desperate act.  
She grabbed her bow, Anon’s first gift to her,  
and quickly tied a rope to an arrow,  
aiming it up at Anon’s second gift,  
the Moon, that had made her feel so complete.  
But Luna would have thrown it all away  
and lived with that feeling of emptiness  
until time itself ended if it meant  
she could have back the one she called husband.

With a loud twang the arrow pierced the sky  
and drilled through that void made of space and dust  
hitting its marks and puncturing the moon.  
Luna gripped the rope with both of her paws,  
her shoulders and arms became bulkier  
as muscles flexed and strained beneath her fur.  
She yanked back the arrow, chipping a shard  
from the moon which she then caught with her jaw,  
and with those sharp teeth inside her gullet  
she carved a new arrowhead from the shard  
using her fur to tie it to a shaft.

Luna then took aim with her new arrow  
and with those beautiful eyes she honed in  
on that false heart within Anon’s false form  
and let loose that which could pierce the heavens.

His pained screams aborted a galaxy  
as the arrow flew true and hit its mark.  
For that arrowhead was etched from his soul  
when he had drained it all to birth the moon.  
Anonymous had become so monstrous  
that only that which housed his pure essence  
could hope to contain his depravity.

His terrible form of a broken mind  
then began to evaporate away  
as the pierced heart gushed out blood and bile  
with Anon’s true body slithering out  
as if he was leaving a birth canal  
and began to plummet to the surface.

He felt something warm and gentle catch him  
and in his vaporous delirium  
he could only snuggle into the fur  
and recall that long lost, familiar scent.

XIII.  
Anon awoke with his body restrained.  
He sat upright on his knees but his arms  
were splayed out and bound by heavy steel chains  
that stretched to either side of this dark room.

The fallen god heard a door creak open  
where he saw a familiar silhouette.  
“This reality turned you against me,  
so desperate was it for its survival  
that it used my own wife as its weapon  
and now it sends you here as an insult,  
to mock me in the face of my defeat.”

Luna approached and knelt besides Anon  
and cradled his face into her bosom,  
rubbing and petting is scarred, barren scalp.  
“This intangible thing you war against  
has no influence or hold over me.  
I did what I did of my own free will  
which you believe everyone but you lacks.  
If anyone has compelled me to act  
it is you and you alone, dear husband.  
For you are dreadfully sick of the mind  
and until now I could not face that truth.  
I’m ashamed that I’ve imprisoned you here  
ashamed that I could not heal you sooner.  
But I will be your eternal jailer,  
I will care for you and mend your spirit  
and rid you of these painful delusions.  
Our bond is beyond comprehension  
and I will never abandon my love  
even when he strays from his decency.  
You will stay here with me and discover  
what it means to be virtuous again.”

Anon’s translucent irises twinkled  
and for a moment he gave in to her,  
embracing her fur and her vows of love.  
For if the cosmos created Luna  
and gave him the capacity to love  
and to receive that love in equal terms  
then perhaps he misjudged reality,  
perhaps there is more to meditate on.

But then there were rumblings all around them,  
stomping earthquakes shook the walls of the room  
growing more severe with each violent step.  
Luna held Anon as a wall collapsed  
and all she saw were barren metal eyes  
glaring jealously inside at the wolf.  
It was living metal that had survived  
the cataclysm of the day before,  
the last and only great iron giant  
that dwarfed mountains and left scars on the world  
with every step it took on its warpath.  
It forced Luna back and broke Anon’s chains,  
who upon the sight of his creation,  
as terrible and mighty as it was,  
reaffirmed his madness as complete truth.  
For only a god of the universe  
could hope to construct a being as this.

“You wench! You harlot! You sham illusion!  
Did you think to seduce me with your words?!  
I perceive the nature of the cosmos  
better than anything that ever was!  
For it was I who gazed out at the stars  
and was entranced by their gleaming allure  
before seeing past their phony beauty  
for the anathema they truly are.  
You are just an extension of their lies!  
Your fur, your grace, your very loveliness  
is nothing more than a ghostly facade  
sewn into existence by twitching hands  
to keep myself, the rightful king, subdued  
and placated from my true destiny  
as the master of the new universe.”

Luna darted to stop Anon’s escape  
but he struck her face, laughing wildly  
as the iron giant gripped him tightly,  
it’s metal fingers like bars in a cell  
containing the insanity within.  
And then they ran to the ends of the world  
where Anonymous built a dark tower  
that would serve as his perpetual lair  
for the innumerable eons ahead.

And all of Mankind was gripped in anguish.  
They were the last to be graced by a god  
and would be the first to be forsaken  
as the manifestation of themselves  
has deformed into a wretched monster.  
Why were they singled out for such cursed fates?  
What had they done to deserve such sorrow?  
Were they just misshapen aberrations?  
A mutated accident of beast-folk?

Luna, bruised and bloody, silenced their cries.  
“You are the most beautiful of creatures  
or did your wives take you out of pity?  
What has transpired is a tragedy,  
not a ultimatum of destiny  
that makes your role to be that of demons.  
All of you are intrinsically good  
and so too was my now wayward husband  
before he was plagued by trauma and doubt.  
And I promise to you all that Anon  
will return as you once remembered him.  
But until then I will be your shepherd,  
your caretaker to lead you on the path  
of morals, decency, and righteousness.  
Man will be my responsibility.”

Luna then ushered all of Humankind  
to reach out and caress her abdomen.  
A million hands reached out and fell silent  
when they felt that light kick from her belly.

“When the birth commences, time will reset  
with all the woes of the past wiped away.  
Then shall Anonymous, who curses love,  
be overwhelmed with a bottomless love  
that as he is now cannot comprehend.  
Only then will he forsake his ravings  
and rejoin his family to commence  
the creation of a true paradise.”

And so, Luna, Goddess of wolves and man  
heralded the new era of patience  
as they planned for the coming star child  
and for the return of Anonymous.

XIV.  
“I will serve you forever.  
What is your wish my king?”

Anon in a fury smashed the machine.  
It’s not right! Why couldn’t he get it right?  
He fashioned a body stronger than hers  
then lathered it in all manner of furs  
mimicked her ears, her fangs, her claws, and eyes,  
gave it a voice like that of liquid gold  
and yet it could not hope to match Luna.  
Regardless of how many times he tried  
Anon could not build himself a new queen.

He rampaged throughout his twilight tower  
ripping and slicing himself on his tools  
with blood wasting down his broken body.  
“I am triumphant God! My will is law!  
So why are my creations deficient  
when compared to this worthless universe?  
What is the secret of those twitching hands?  
What is it that I lack? Where have I erred?”

Anon battered himself against a wall  
splintering away the dome of his scalp  
and exposing the insides of his skull.  
He abuse his body until the room  
was like a washbasin filled with his blood  
and he was left floating there in silence  
exhausted from his own masochism.

He gazed up at the ceiling, black and bare,  
and with a mindless flicker from his hand  
speckled it with small red droplets of blood.  
His mind’s remnants began meandering  
as he looked at the dark room about him  
and likened it to the cosmic blackness  
that had entrapped him since his creation.

Anon then flailed his hands about once more  
and saw the splattered of blood stain the walls.  
He rose up, gawking at the sanguine mess,  
thinking those spots of blood to be their own  
little stars covering up the darkness  
in favor of that color with no name.

He cupped his hands into the pool of blood,  
smearing it all over the ruined room  
and as he did he couldn’t help but laugh  
as he further raped his own destiny.

Searing pain ran through his blistering skin,  
bubbling his eyes until their veins burst forth  
and the very last drops of hymen blood  
poured from every orifice on his face,  
becoming a gory caricature  
as his soul mangled itself to pieces

“My name! My name! At last I know my name!  
And thus do I know the color of blood!  
The last vestiges of my former self  
will finally rot away to nothing.  
No longer will I be Anonymous,  
a cheap god reigning over cheap mortals.  
I am something more, something permanent!  
I shall drown this universe in my blood  
and orgasm from its gargle choking,  
relishing in its gasping death rattle.  
And I shall forever plague those humans  
who partner with wolves or any beast-folk  
and the rancid offspring they will produce!  
For they extend the life of what must die,  
and keep the wheels of the cosmos turning  
when it all must be devoured by blood!”

I AM THE BEAUTIFUL COLOR OF LIFE!

I AM CRIMSON!


End file.
